The Silent Kill
by Gaz Almighty
Summary: After a boring kill, Nny needs compensation - He decapitates a DJ, Sings Aretha Franklin and Kills the 'Night at the Roxberry' guys. My very firt JTHM fiction, please review.


Presenting my first ever JTHM fan fiction. I think I did well for a first time. Here, read! Please review when you're finished.  
  
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A mailman casually walks towards the door of a rundown shack. He shuffles through his large bag of mail, whistling, and is just about to pop them in the slot when -  
  
"HI!" The door (knock, you just try it!!) slams open and slams closed again. The mailman is now inside the shack. It smells of blood. The mailman thinks he's going to throw up when a blade is poised against his jugular. He freezes, and a cold sweat begins to fall down his pudgy face. The blade pushes harder, just breaking the skin. The feel of his own warm blood is sending him into a panic. But before he can react -  
  
"Hello Mr. Mailman!" says an inhumanly disturbed voice. "How are you? Well I don't suppose are could be very well at the moment, could you? Well let's see what you got for me!"  
  
The hand opposite the one at his neck shoots down into the mailbag. It returns with a stack of envelopes. The hand drops the letters to the side and clutches the mailman's opposite shoulder. The gesture is strangely maternal, like a deranged hug. The mailman is to scared to move.  
  
"You know you're the only person to come around since...well, you know. And you've been coming pretty consistently. I think you may have an agenda..."  
  
The blade moves down his neck to right above the ribcage, between the collarbones. The end near the handle is in view now and it is visibly stained with blood. The mailman wishes that he had lost more, because then he would've blacked out, and wouldn't still be seeing this. The hand balances the knife on its point and taps the fingers rhythmically on the black handle. A curious sound escapes the throat behind him.  
  
"You know what would happen it I shot this through at a 45 degree angle?" said the voice. The hand moved into the indicated position. "It would pierce your heart and you would die instantly. So I ask you: are you planning my demise? But then again, someone as still and obviously HORRIFIED as you are now would, logically, never in a million years work up enough courage to approach me by their own free will, would they?" the knife backs away from the stop of supposed impact, in retreat or poised for attack, the mailman couldn't decide.  
  
"So you know what?" asked the voice. "I think I'm going to let you go. I'm just in that good of a mood. I'm just gonna check my mail and you'll be off on your way, alright?"  
  
The mailman made no response.  
  
"Silence implies consent. Very well."  
  
The hand picks up the stack of letters and begins to thumb them off as the voice reads off what they contain.  
  
"I may have won $10 million, save the rainforest, and - ELECTRIC BILL?!?!? AHHHHH!!!"  
  
The knifes bears down on the mailman's throat and he falls to the ground, spasming for a few moments until he looses too much blood to live. The corpse lies motionless on the ground. The voice sighs.  
  
"Well THAT did nothing for me."  
  
Johnny, arms widespread from releasing the dead mailman, keeps them that way and lets the knife drop to the floor. He sighs, leans against the wall and slumps to the floor. He narrows his eyes at the dead civil servant. "You greedy bastard. You didn't make a sound. How pitiful you were in your last moments of death," he says, while examining his right hand, saturated with blood. He pulls the thin, black glove that was on it off to find the blood soaked through. He looked at it for a moment more. "Not a solitary word. Was it pride? What does pride do for you where you are now?" he says and puts his hand down. Looking at the corpse, he crawls towards it. He kneels, hands hovering above the dead man's shoulders like he might regain consciousness, and with one, ungloved finger, lifts the mans face to meet his gaze.  
  
There he finds a relatively expressionless face, save the eyes. The eyes were wide like saucers and would most definitely stay that way, thanks to rigor mortis. He was not quiet for ego - he was quite for fear.  
  
"Fear," he said. "At least you felt something before you passed. It's better than having a big head, but neither case lets me get anything out of the experience. I guess it doesn't make a difference..." he trails off and stands. "...at least not now."  
  
"Feeling?" asked a voice that made Johnny snap to attention. "You're contemplating feeling? I thought feeling was your enemy?"  
  
Johnny recognizes the sound and sneers. "Feeling is not my enemy," he says while walking with a purpose to the manifestation of the noise. "YOU, Reverend, are MY enemy." He reaches the doorway and stands gunslinger style under it. "You give feeling a bad name." He walks towards the bloated meat thing; angry, but cautious, like a man approaching a dog that just attacked his kid. He knows his limits while at the same time desiring nothing more than to bash in its skull. He gets within 6 feet of it and stops. Just looking at it.  
  
It's disgusting. It represents everything that I oppose, he thought, and it must be destroyed. "Felling in and of itself," he begins. "can be a productive and dare I say enjoyable experience. But the kind of feeling you portray represents all the primal urges, all the loathsome qualities of humanity that I have spent a lifetime striving to eradicate. To go with the crowd? You are asking me to become what I hate, and what has hated me for as long as I can remember. YOU-" he said, pointing an accusing figure and becoming ever more enraged.  
  
"Want me to submit to what I have fought a war against. And just when I think I may have hope for sanity YOU show up and tell me that I'm wrong. That I am a slave to what I despise. And THAT is why I oppose you. THAT is why I hate you. THAT MY DEAR MEAT, IS WHY YOU ARE THE SINGLE MOST EVIL THING THAT I HAVE EVER ENCOUNTERED. And if you think I'm crazy, then your probably right because that is how I have survived. Don't pull a blanket out from under a dog and expect him not to growl at you."  
  
Johnny stares hard at the idol. A graven image, worshiped by a cult of the truly deranged. It makes no sound, only stares at him with empty, hateful eyes. Johnny's patience draws thin.  
  
"Nothing to say? No witty all knowing comeback in store? Good. I'm glad you've shut up. I hope you never speak again."  
  
He just about turns away when a sarcastic chuckle escapes the porcelain throat of Rev. Meat.  
  
"My poor, misguided, Johnny. How you fail to see the point."  
  
Johnny just about snaps. "POINT?!?" he screams. "What point is in your talk?! You only manage to anger and further distance me from your field of influence. If you really are part of me - as you claim you are - then way present yourself in such a way that I loathe? Why not manifest yourself as some inner voice or subconscious thought? Why posses such an already hideous thing and make it all the more horrible with your presence KNOWING I will defy you!?"  
  
"Because all you can address is opposition," states Meat simply. "If I was some form of `inner voice' as you say - and I almost am - than you would pass me up as another meaningless human emotion. Here, in my present form, you identify me as something with more worth. You yourself called me `evil'. Didn't you refer to yourself once as `evil'? You call what you hate and what you are fighting for the same thing."  
  
"Evil in a different sense. Evil in the sense that I kill. YOU are evil in that you seek to destroy and corrupt all that you encounter. More than half the people I have killed had it coming to them or made it worthwhile. Maybe even learned something from it. But nothing can be achieved from the kind of blind following of instinct that you campaign for."  
  
"Why exist if you only suffer?"  
  
"Because it's real," he says, casting his gaze down and really tasting the words as he said them. "Because pain and suffering are more real than any shallow delusion ever could be. Because the blind beast they call society will eventually fall off its high horse and realize what I have already lived." He closed his eyes for a second. "And oh, how I have lived it."  
  
He turned on his heal and paced out of the room.  
  
"Where are you going?"  
  
"Out."  
  
And with that he slammed the front door.  
  
Johnny shoved his hands deep into his pockets and mumbled incoherently. Something to the tune of:  
  
Freking Meat. Thinks he knows everything. And that fucking mailman staying quiet doesn't make my situation any more enjoyable. I'm dissatisfied with that kill. I won't hold over for long.  
  
- And what kind of nerve does that guy have for keeping his mouth shut anyway? Is he too good to spare a word for moi? Damn, I had to go and ruin it. I killed him too quickly. But then, he had enough time to pipe up. Yeah, I shouldn't blame myself. But I still need something. Calling road kill, road kill doesn't make it anymore of a meal...  
  
Johnny continues walking, growing more and more on edge. Like a junkie for a fix, the itch to kill nagged him with withdrawal.  
  
Finally he decided to do something about it. He needed repentance for that mailman incident. He stopped, and spotted a man of about the same height leaning against a wall, nervous at Nny's presence and politely trying to ignore his piercing stare.  
  
Nny stepped in front of him, and opened a switchblade under the mans throat.  
  
"DOES THIS SCARE YOU?!"  
  
"Yes!"  
  
"HOW WOULD YOU LIKE IT IF I GUT YOU LIKE A FISH? IT'D HURT, RIGHT?!"  
  
"Yes!!"  
  
"YOU'D SCREAM, RIGHT?!?!"  
  
"YES!!"  
  
"WELL THEN GET THE HELL OVER HERE!!!!"  
  
Johnny grabbed the horrified man by the collar and threw him into a near by alley. The man hit several garbage cans and struggled to get up as Johnny put away the switchblade and opted for a better crafted, stiletto. He examined its gleam in the florescent light of the street lamps. With the other hand he peeled off his jacket, he wanted no restrictions during his work.  
  
He approached the terrified man.  
  
"P-P-Please don't hurt me..."  
  
"Oh, come on! How stereotypical! What are the chances of that?"  
  
Nny gets one of those grins and begins to laugh maniacally as the man backs deeper into the chain link fence.  
  
Johnny curls one finger at the man. "C'mere boy..."  
  
The man screams. Nny laughs harder and lunges.  
  
The blade catches the man between the eyes. It doesn't break the skull but it does bleed profusely. The man holds his face in pain. Nny grabs the mans hair, knees the guy in the stomach, and elbow drops him to the floor with a blow to the back of the neck. He's about to swipe when the man rolls and gets out of the way.  
  
"Oh, you're GOOD!" yells Nny as the man runs down the alley.  
  
"But I'm better," he says to mostly himself and throws the stiletto like a Frisbee towards the man. It plants nicely into the mans back, severs his spinal chord and paralyzes him from the waist down before he hits the ground.  
  
Nny raises his arms like "It's good" and says "BULLSEYE!"  
  
The man attempts to crawl away but is stopped short when Johnny yanks the knife out of his back. The man screams, and screams harder when Nny grinds his heel into the wound.  
  
Finally, to put an end to it, Johnny grabs the man by the hair and pulls his head up.  
  
"It's been fun." He says, and slits the man's throat.  
  
Walking away, happy, he whistles and flips the blade up into the air.  
  
He grabs his jacket, slings it over his shoulder and looks for his next victim.  
  
A little ways down the street he spots a bum reading a HNB comic. He stops to introduce himself.  
  
"I can't help but notice your reading a Happy Noodle Boy. I wrote that you know."  
  
"You? This is crap! All he does is rant on about Martians and then pee on some kid after eating grass!!"  
  
Johnny narrows his eyes. "It represents the meaningless of life. Its symbolic of the hypocritical, pointless jargon we are force fed every day by the media."  
  
"Well I hate it."  
  
Nny gets that look. You know, one eye squinted, one wide open.  
  
"You do, do you? Well how would like it if I SKINNED YOU LIKE A DEER IN HUNTING SEASON!!!" - and whips out a large knife.  
  
The homeless man screams and jumps through a nearby window.  
  
"COME BACK HERE YOU!! I'M GONNA HANG YOUR HEAD ON MY WALL LIKE A TROPHY!!!!" Nny jumps through the window too.  
  
Inside, the bum sees that Nny has followed him and jumps through another window. Johnny leans out the window and shakes his fist.  
  
"You coward! All I wanted to do was talk!!" Nny spots the knife in his out-stretched hand.  
  
"Well...AND KILL YOU!!!"  
  
Nny is about to jump back out and follow when he realizes where he is. He is in the lighting/sound booth of a nightclub. He can't hear, but can see the club through the sound proof glass. He grins and begins to manipulate the controls on the panel.  
  
A moment later, in the club, everything goes black. There is a murmur of puzzlement until a spotlight turns on Johnny, high in the rafters. He sits on the catwalk, back against the wall, with one knee propped up and an arm hung over it. Music starts; he lifts a microphone to his mouth and begins to sing:  
  
"At first I was afraid, I was petrified,  
  
Thinking how I'd never live without you by my side,  
  
But then I spent so many nights, thinking how you did me wrong,  
  
And I grew strong,  
  
And then I sent a sharp knife INTO YOUR BACK!!!"  
  
(He jumps down into the crowd and they all start to run away as he chucks ninja stars at them.) (the lights come back on)  
  
"-Right at it's base!!" (Stars hit people; tear flesh and screams fill the air)  
  
"You just walked in and had that: `Oh my God I've been stabbed' look upon your face..." he throws the microphone at woman, her skull cracks and she falls to the ground.  
  
Johnny is clearly having too much fun signing Aretha Franklin. He hums the rest of the song as he maims people.  
  
He walks toward a group of people and they run. He turns to his right to see a man flattened up against the wall. In his hand is a cigarette.  
  
Nny plucks the cigarette from the mans fingers. "You don't mind, do you?"  
  
Nny takes a drag. The man watches, frozen in horror. Nny examines the amber tip for a moment, proclaims: "Filthy habit." And plops the cigarette in the mans gapping mouth. Before the man can spit the red-hot butt out Johnny lodges a knife into his stomach. Nny exhales the smoke in the mans face as he slumps to the floor, leaving a trial of blood down the wall.  
  
Nny jumps up on top of the turntables, donning daggers in both hands. He bends at the waist, lifting one leg comically in the air as he leans towards a huddled, shaking disk jockey. "Hello."  
  
The DJ screams as Johnny leaps down, crosses his arms across his chest and then swings them wide to slash the DJ's head off. It rolls to Johnny's feet. Johnny picks it up, places it on the turntable counsel and then begins to scratch. No one is dancing.  
  
"Oh, c'mon! You drones love this crap!!!"  
  
He leaps over the turntables and spots two people. They're oblivious to what Nny is doing. They just continually bob their heads to the side. He walks up to them. They begin to yammer about picking up chicks and then (to Nny's discomfort) knock him between themselves. Nny quickly stops this.  
  
"WAIT!!" he cries. They stop. "How about a beer?" he asks, suddenly calm. They nod at each other, and continue yammering. They each grab one. Nny looks them and gives a thumbs up. They say "Alright!" and high five.  
  
Then he breaks the beer bottle and brandishes the broken neck at them while screaming. They begin to run off.  
  
Nny grabs their beers and hurls them at them. The beers him each one in unison and they fall over a large heap of corpses. Johnny laughs madly.  
  
"Oh, this IS satisfying! I guess no one tonight actually deserved to die, but that will teach them to listen to that techno shit! Hah! Meat ain't got nothing on me!"  
  
He scans the room: Blood everywhere, decapitated DJ in the booth, more blood, pile on bodies on the dance floor.  
  
Hell, he thinks, they'll probably blame this on Ecstasy.  
  
He hums and leaves the club, content.  
  
Johnny walks in whistling. "Well your mood's changed." Says Meat.  
  
"Yes, Rev. I've done something on impulse. I guess its true: The best is the most spontaneous."  
  
"They mean sex. Did you go to a hooker, then kill her?"  
  
"No. Just killed her. Well, not specifically, but I'm sure there were more than one in that club."  
  
"Clubbing? Is this a new Johnny coming out?"  
  
Johnny reels back and laughs. "No, for Gods sake. Just something to take my mind off you. You really pissed my off. But I've regained my good mood and don't do anything to ruin that. - I may have to go on another killing spree."  
  
Johnny walks to the fridge and swings it open.  
  
"I wouldn't open that if I were you."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"'Cause we're out of Cherry fizz wiz."  
  
Johnny clutches the empty can in his hand and throws his head back -  
  
"NOOOOOOOOOOO! WHY DO YOU MOCK ME!!!!!!!!!"  
  
Meat laughs maniacally into the night.  
  
(END) 


End file.
